In the brief interval in which he
had to act he determined to make use of his fallen enemies. This
he impressed on Celie's alert mind before he ran back to the scene
of the fight. He made no more than a swift observation of the
field in these first moments--did not even look for weapons. His
thought was entirely of Celie. The smallest of the three forms on
the snow was the Kogmollock he had struck down with his club. He
dropped on his knees and took off first the sealskin bashlyk, or
hood. Then he began stripping the dead man of his other garments.
From the fur coat to the caribou-skin moccasins they were
comparatively new. With them in his arms he hurried back to the
girl.
It was not a time for fine distinctions. The clothes were a
godsend, though they had come from a dead man's back, and an
Eskimo's at that. Celie's eyes shone with joy. It amazed him more
than ever to see how unafraid she was in this hour of great
danger. She was busy with the clothes almost before his back was
turned.
He returned to the Eskimos.
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